


The Sweetest Con

by HeartSabers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Banter, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Casual drinking, Con Artists, Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Grief, Happily Ever After, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Physical Abuse, Lawyer Ben Solo, Loss of Parent(s), No Pregnancy, Past Character Death, Rivals to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, con artist Rey, mentions of a car accident, no mentions of pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29721009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartSabers/pseuds/HeartSabers
Summary: When oil tycoon Sheev Palpatine formally announces his long lost granddaughter as the sole heiress to his empire, his estate planning attorney, Ben Solo, seems to be the only one who notices the cracks in Ms. Palpatine's story.Takes one to know one, they say.*********A modern AU inspired by Taylor Swift's cowboy like me.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 51
Kudos: 180





	1. The tennis court

**Author's Note:**

> To no one's surprise, here I am writing another Taylor Swift inspired fic. No, I have no shame.

The mansion looked even more striking seen from a distance, its proud, pristine white walls tinted pastel pink by the crawling twilight. The sight should come as no surprise, Ben thought, leaning against one of the poles supporting the see-through tent that had been placed over the tennis court. His gaze strayed upwards, sliding across drizzle-dotted acrylic as the sound of clinking glasses and soft chatter filled his ears. His wandering eyes only stopped when they found the microphone standing on a rostrum on the other side of the reception area. It had _obviously_ been intentional, having the house built on the highest point of the grounds so that it looked mammoth from wherever one looked up at it, just like it had _obviously_ been intentional, making sure that microphone was standing on a dais, raised above the wooden floor placed over the court.

Hell would freeze over before Sheev Palpatine missed out on an opportunity to look down on people.

The sound of ice cubes clinking against glass as Ben swirled his whiskey was promptly drowned out by that of applause as the old man stepped up on the raised platform, smiling a wrinkled smile down at his guests.

“Good evening! Good evening, everyone. I take it you _are_ enjoying your evening?” His smile widened as chuckles and cheers bubbled around the round, linen-covered tables, and Palpatine nodded, seeming particularly pleased with himself. “Thank you for coming, and trust me when I tell you I don’t take your presence for granted. If you’re here tonight, that means you’re an invaluable part of this family we’ve built around Empire Oil & Co., and for that I am _truly_ grateful.”

Funnily enough, it was contempt, rather than gratitude, that sparkled in his cold blue eyes as he looked at the many guests raising their glasses in the air by way of a silent toast, champagne flutes glistening in the last traces of sunlight.

“And speaking of family,” the old man proceeded, his voice sickly-sweet as his gaze strayed to the closest table to his right. “C’mon, darling, come up here. Don’t be shy.”

Ben couldn’t see her from this angle. Not really. She had her back to him, so all he could see was her low chignon bouncing softly as she shook her head, apparently asking not to be dragged into the center of attention. He could also see her slump her shoulders ever so slightly, as if trying to make herself smaller, less visible; as if trying to hide from the dozens of prying eyes now resting on her back. When Palpatine took a step away from the rostrum and extended his hand towards her, Ben let a long sip of whiskey roll over his tongue, watching the girl shake her head again. 

She seemed to resist for another moment, and she might have even said something to justify her stalling, because Palpatine smiled down at her, his lips moving to form words the microphone didn’t catch. In the sizzling silence that fell over the candlelit tent, her hesitation seemed to have taken years.

Objectively, Ben knew it hadn’t.

It couldn’t have taken her more than a couple seconds to finally stand up, eliciting a cheerful round of applause from the crowd, whose attention was now irrevocably glued to her. 

Ben pursed his lips and swirled his whiskey again as he watched her trembling hands smooth the back of her knee-length, figure-hugging dress, and licked the back of his teeth as the girl finally made her way around the table and reached out to let Palpatine help her join him on the stage.

She wobbled ever so slightly on her high heels as the old man led her to the center of the platform, the stark whiteness of her dress making her skin look golden under the dim light of the small lanterns hanging from the ceiling. When she stopped next to the rostrum, her doe eyes finally turned gingerly to the guests, as if avoiding direct eye contact with any of the very rich people offering her calculated smiles.

There was a small, hesitant smile on her lips as she nodded towards the sound of applause, but her cap-sleeve-covered shoulders were still slightly hunched when Palpatine stepped back behind the microphone.

Ben sipped on his drink again, watching her squeeze her clasped hands in front of her body as the man resumed his speech.

“Speaking of family,” the old man repeated, smiling another plastic smile down at his guests. “I see no point in beating around the bush when all of you know why we’re here tonight. I’d like you, my closest friends and collaborators, to be the first people I formally introduce to my granddaughter, Rey Palpatine.” 

Insincere gasps spread around the crowd like wildfire, accompanied by equally insincere cheers. Ben felt a slight smirk tug at the corner of his lips as Rey squeezed her hands together again, flashing the crowd an anxious smile and an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement.

Locking his jaw to coax his mouth back into a straight line, Ben licked the taste of whiskey off his lower lip as the noise subsided.

“As many of you may know”, Palpatine proceeded, taking Rey in as one would a winning horse. “There’s only ever been one person I dreamed would carry on my legacy, and after I lost her…”

A solemn silence fell over the reception as Palpatine looked down at the microphone and pressed his lips together. When he raised his eyes back to his audience, there were no tears in them.

“When I lost her, I refused to choose anyone else. Refused to draft a proper will. Refused to think of alternatives. Our Ben back there will be the first to tell you what a pain managing my estate has been because of that.”

A few heads turned towards Ben amidst the sound of chuckles, and he answered their doctored smiles with small smirk, a quiet nod, and a brief wave of his hand.

When he looked back towards the stage, Rey’s eyes seemed to have just darted away from his face.

“But little did I know.” Every pair of eyes went back to Palpatine at the words, and Ben shifted on his feet, taking another sip of whiskey. “Little did I know my precious Estée had left me a present that surpassed anything I could have asked for. A priceless gift. This bright, beautiful young lady you’ll hopefully grow to love and admire like I already do.”

Rey smiled sheepishly down at her feet, exhaling a quivering breath before squaring her shoulders and looking up again. To anyone looking, she seemed to be making a herculean effort to look confident.

It made something that felt oddly similar to admiration swell in Ben’s chest, and he pressed his lips together to repress another smirk.

“Rey,” Palpatine continued, gaze roaming around the tables. “Like her mother before her, is to carry on my name. My legacy. My company. And I trust every single one of you to help me guide her through the responsibilities she is to inherit.” He flashed Rey a side smile, winking conspiratorially before looking back at his guests. “And the money too, of course.” 

Everyone laughed at the words, but Rey only let out an anxious chuckle, gaze darting to her shoes again as she raised her hand to fiddle with the strands of hair casually falling from her unpretentious updo. The gesture made the slight tremble of her fingers visible to anyone paying attention, and Ben shoved his hand into his pocket, letting out an amused huff of air through his nose as he raised his glass to his lips.

“I could spend the whole night talking about how happy I am to have been given this gift, but I’m sure you’re here to get to know this stunning young lady, not this wrinkly old man.” The words drew out another wave of chuckles and sparse applause, but they also made Rey look up at her grandfather slowly, eyes widening, a small rift forming between her brows. “C’mon, dear,” Palpatine said, his voice smooth and saccharine as he looked at her and gestured towards the microphone. “I’m sure they’d love to hear a couple of words from you.”

The indistinct sound that emerged from the tables was one of approval, but Rey didn’t tear her alarmed eyes away from her grandfather to look at the crowd. She just shook her head again, almost imperceptibly this time, and took the smallest of steps back, as if distancing herself from the microphone by pure instinct.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Palpatine said, ignoring whatever it was that his granddaughter was mouthing as he reached for her hand. “Ms. Rey Palpatine, future CEO of Empire Oil & Co.”

The sound of applause intensified as the man stepped down from the rostrum and coaxed Rey to step up on it, fighting her blatant discomfort with words that were drowned out by the noise. When she finally took her place behind the microphone, swallowing thickly, her eyes took a moment to look directly at the guests, wide and endearingly lost.

“Hi,” was the first word she muttered into the microphone, flashing the guests a hesitant smile and an awkward wave of her hand. “Hi, I’m –”

Her faltering words were violently interrupted by the loud, high-pitched squeal of microphone feedback, and she winced as the sound filled up the entire tent. Most guests flinched as well, some bringing their hands up to their ears, but Ben only furrowed his brow, eyes fixed on the girl on the stage. 

“That sounds like a sign from the universe,” she muttered as the noise subsided, a lilt of nervous laughter tinging her voice. The words earned her chuckles and sympathetic smiles from her audience, and she smiled back, shrugging. “Let’s try again. Hi, I’m Rey and… and to be completely honest, I’m totally unequipped for this.”

The crowd chuckled again, and she looked down for a second, hands fidgeting with something at the base of the microphone. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips before she went on.

“Saying the last month has been a rollercoaster would be the understatement of the century. You know, this… This isn’t the kind of thing that happens in real life, to real people, and I know I should be grateful.” Pressing her lips together, she shot her grandfather an apologetic glance, which was met with a reassuring smile. “And I am,” she added, shrugging again before she looked back at the party. “I _am_ grateful, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t overwhelmed. And a bit scared. You see, I know…”

Averting her eyes, Rey took in a deep breath, apparently searching for the right words.

“I know _this,”_ she said, gesturing vaguely towards the party, “Y’know, the wealth and the glitz and the glam – I know most people fantasize about it, and I’d be lying if I said as a child I didn’t fantasize about someone knocking on my door to tell me I was a princess and a life of endless ice cream was waiting for me.”

A table to Ben’s left erupted in chuckles, and so did many of the guests – the ones that weren’t too busy smiling fondly at Rey, entranced by the captivating, endearing tone of her tentative voice. He just rolled his lips, though, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

In more ways than one, this felt like watching Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel.

“But even back then,” the girl went on, wetting her lips again. “Even back then, it wasn’t really about being a princess, or living in a castle, or swimming in a pool of ice cream. It was about having answers. It was about… about finding out that even though my parents were gone, there was someone out there –”

When the thickness in her voice finally weighed enough to make it break, she averted her gaze, rushing to dry the tear making its way down the side of her face.

Right to his left, Ben heard someone sniffle.

In front of him, Rey squared her shoulders, patting her cheek dry before exhaling a quivering breath.

“That there was _someone_ out there looking for me. Someone who _wanted_ to find me.” Her voice was still thick with tears, but she raised her chin ever so slightly, pushing through the obvious lump lodged in her throat. “It was about clinging to the hope that I wasn’t _really_ alone in the world, left to fend for myself.”

When Palpatine reached out to pat her softly on the back, Rey let out a teary sigh, offering him a smile and a nod.

“But then the years came,” she went on, holding her grandfather’s gaze for another moment before looking ahead again. “And with each year that went by; with each new foster home I was sent to, that hope dwindled a little. It never died for good, though, and the reason it didn’t was _this_.” 

Her trembling hand darted up to the boat neck of her dress as she said the last word, and her fingers wrapped carefully around the dainty necklace she was wearing. She fidgeted with the charm hanging from it, looking down at the shiny piece of jewelry before resuming her speech.

“This was the only thing I got to keep from my mother. All I knew was her name – the fake one she was going by back then. I knew she’d died in an accident with my father, and that no relatives had been found. But I also knew _this_ had belonged to her, and I knew the words engraved on the back of it like they were carved on my skin. _To my little star_.”

She was still holding onto the pendant when Palpatine rubbed her back again, but she didn’t look at him this time around. Her voice was strained and hoarse as she tried to push through.

“I liked to believe that was her talking to me. That as long as I had this around my neck, she was with me, and so was my dad. Even when I didn’t have a dime to buy food or to pay rent; even when I was on the verge of homelessness or going to bed hungry every night, I refused to sell this necklace, because I knew as long as I had it with me I wasn’t alone. Even if I _had_ been left to fend for myself. Even if no one was looking for me.”

On the many tables that stood between Ben and the stage, a handful of women were already crying openly, either dabbing their tearstained cheeks on white linen napkins or looking up at the ceiling to avoid smudging their mascara. Just a few feet to his left, a tall bearded man was pretending to tie his shoelaces, hurriedly drying his eyes on the back of his hand. 

“Fate’s funny like that,” Rey’s voice said, causing Ben’s eyes to snap right back towards her. He found the girl drying her eyes, too, before offering the guests a teary smile. When she continued, that unique luminosity had returned to her tone. “’Cause, in the end, holding onto this necklace is what got me found. By someone who didn’t even know I was out there, but who longed for me just as much a longed for them.”

She reached out to Palpatine as she said that, and he promptly took her hand between his, squeezing it with an affectionate smile. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and Rey’s smile widened as her misty eyes drifted back to the guests.

“I only said all that because I don’t want to come across as ungrateful when I tell you I’m overwhelmed. I’m grateful. Trust me, from the bottom of my heart, I am. I have a family, I have a home, I have someone looking out for me. For the first time in my life, I _know_ I’m not alone.” A brief moment of silence followed, during which Rey inhaled and exhaled, seeming to be making a great effort to keep more tears from coming. “But I’m also scared, and nervous, and to be honest I’m terrified of the responsibilities that came with this belonging I’ve always sought. That’s what I mean when I say I’m overwhelmed, but I’m also happy to have all of you by my side.”

Shooting another quick glance towards Palpatine, Rey squeezed his hand again, smiling brightly. “My grandfather trusts you to help me navigate this brand new world, and if he trusts you, so do I.” Her eyes were sparkling when they roamed around the faces looking at her. “Thank you for welcoming me into this family, and thank you for being here tonight. Now please, enjoy your evening. I hear there’s ice cream for dessert.”

Her last words drew out teary chuckles from the crowd, but the sound of laughter was promptly drowned out by that of applause when Palpatine pulled his granddaughter into a tight hug, rubbing her back as she screwed her eyes shut. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben could see someone stand up. And then someone else. And then someone else. Within a moment, dozens of the richest, most influential people in Coruscant were on their feet, giving the orphan girl turned empress a standing ovation. On the stage, she kept holding onto her grandfather like she’d fall apart if she let go.

Through the deafening noise of clapping, cheers, whistles and noses being blown, no one heard Ben let out an amused huff through his nose before downing the last of his whiskey. 

***

For the next forty minutes or so, Ben kept his eyes on the girl as Palpatine paraded her around the room, introducing her to senior directors, major shareholders, high-ranking associates, Senators, Congressmen, maybe a former President or two. Through it all, she kept the same demure quality to the way she carried herself – her shoulders slightly hunched, her eyes not holding anyone’s stare for over a few seconds, her steps slightly unstable on her stilettos, the smile on her lips tentative and apologetic at the same time. Every now and then, she’d laugh at some joke or another, but it didn’t seem to dissipate any tension at all: there was still a slight tremble to her hand every time she extended it to be introduced to another big fish. 

Even when important people approached Ben saying important things, his attention was on her, undivided; on the faultlessness of her sheepish smiles; on how utterly convincing she was in every small gesture, every micro expression, every wobbly step and every anxious laugh.

It felt like he’d watched her for years by the time the many rounds of handshakes finally started to lead her to the back of the tent, towards him.

“… those last details you were talking about. Maybe next week? I’m sure Claire would love having you for dinner – we could…”

Senator Tarkin was talking to him, and it was important, Ben was sure of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to listen – not when he could clearly see the two figures approaching from his right. 

“Wilhuff, you old fox,” a voice huffed next to them, and Ben did his best to look unfazed as he turned towards the sound. “Can I borrow Solo for a second?”

Palpatine had a wrinkled smile on his face as he patted Ben’s shoulder, and the Senator smiled back, chuckling softly.

“Sure thing,” he said, turning towards Ben. “Talk to you later then, boy?”

“Of course,” Ben added, with a nod and a smile. “Of course, Senator.” 

Tarkin nodded again before starting to make his way back to his seat, and Ben kept his eyes on the man’s back for a moment before he finally turned to face Palpatine.

Palpatine and _her_.

There was a lot he hadn’t been able to see from a distance.

For instance, her eyes were hazel-green – hazel-green and impossibly bright, wrinkling at the corners as she smiled up at him. The smile also crinkled the bridge of her nose, which was narrow and delicate, dabbled with a splatter of bronze-toned freckles. And then there was _the smile_ itself, luminous and wide even through her masterful effort to make it look insecure.

“Ben, let me introduce you to Rey,” Palpatine said, squeezing Ben’s shoulder, his other hand on the small of Rey’s back. “Rey, this is Ben Solo. I told you about him.”

“Yeah,” she replied, glancing quickly at her grandfather before her eyes went back to Ben’s face. “Wait, I got this, don’t say it. You’re… the estate planning attorney, right?”

“That would be an A+,” Ben said, unable to tear his eyes away from her face. For whatever reason, his voice sounded raspy.

“See, I told you you’d learn in no time.”

Palpatine’s tone was encouraging, and Rey beamed proudly at the compliment.

“So, you basically take care of…”

“Things we hope we won’t have to resort to in the near future, yeah,” Ben replied, sparing her of finishing the sentence. “Wills, trusts, testaments. But, as your grandfather still has many years ahead of him, I also help him out with estate taxes, protecting assets, managing his net worth.”

Palpatine nodded, looking at Rey with a palpable amount of condescension in his eyes.

“Ben basically knows everything we own inside out. He monitors where certain things could go…” Pressing his lips together for a second, he looked up as if searching for the right word. When he spoke again, there was the hint of a smile in his voice. “ _Wrong_. Legally speaking. And then he makes sure they don’t.”

“Oh,” Rey mouthed, eyes widening as she nodded. “Right. Got it. You must work closely with the accounting team, then?”

“I do, yes.”

“That’s exciting,” she said with a bright smile, as if accounting were the most interesting subject she’d ever heard of. “I’ve just met Mr. Hux and Ms. Phasma. They seem very nice.”

Ben had to take a sip of whiskey to hide the smirk threatening to form on his lips, and he watched Rey swallow thickly as she looked at his glass, something that looked a lot like envy flashing in her eyes.

It was gone in an instant.

“Yes,” he finally answered, wetting his lips. “Yes, they’re _very_ nice.”

If Rey noticed the sarcasm dripping from his words, she didn’t let it show. She just smiled instead, tilting her head _just so_ – not to the point where it looked theatrical, but enough to give her body language a strikingly convincing aura of naïveté.

“I look forward to learning from all of you. Will you be staying a few days, too?”

“Of course,” Palpatine intervened before Ben could answer, brow slightly furrowed. “Of course, the meetings we’re holding wouldn’t make any sense without Ben.” 

“Good,” Rey replied, her smile unfaltering. “Good, we’ll get to talk throughout the week then, right?”

“I hope so,” Ben said, offering her a side smile as he shoved his hand into his pocket. “I look forward to working with you, Ms. Palpatine.” 

***

It took him another solid hour to find the perfect opportunity.

The sun had already fully set by then, which meant the tent was now swimming in the golden shade of the light coming from the lanterns and candles on the tables. The reception kept on bubbling with the sound of clinking cutlery and soft jazz nonetheless, and Ben kept glancing at her every now and then; watching her charm her way in and out of conversations with a perfect mixture of endearing meekness and captivating enthusiasm.

Luckily enough, Congressmen Moden Canady had just freed him from a long, insufferable conversation about yacht taxation when Ben finally watched her lean in and whisper something in her grandfather’s ear. Palpatine nodded in response, and the girl smiled before making her way to the side of the tent, nodding politely at a group of middle-aged women before heading to the gardens.

“Whiskey, sir?”

When Ben tore his eyes away from the spot where she’d disappeared, he found a young waiter standing next to him holding an amber bottle of Balvenie Portwood.

“No,” he answered, throwing his empty glass a quick glance. “No, thank you. Could you get me two flutes of champagne instead?”

“Right away, sir.” 

Ben didn’t watch the waiter move towards the bar, but weaved his way to the side of the tent instead, eyes glued to the spot where he’d last seen her. Then he stood there, hand on one of the poles supporting the ceiling, the cool night breeze blowing softly at his hair as he watched her silhouette disappear in the distance.

“Here you go, sir.”

Ben kept his eyes trained on the moonlit night outside the tent for another moment before accepting the flutes from the waiter’s hands without looking at him.

“Thank you.”

With a small bow of his head, the waiter moved back into the party, and Ben locked his jaw before stepping down from the low wooden platform covering the tennis court.

The grass was damp under his shoes as he started to make his way across the lawn. He could tell by the soft, wet squishes each of his steps squeezed into the night, but he could also tell by the fresh, green scent of rain embedded into the darkness all around him.

The waning crescent moon cast a blueish veil on everything the lights of the party didn’t touch as it made its way across the night sky, but Ben barely paid attention to it, striding determinately in the direction she’d headed. As he walked, the sound of chatter and music grew more and more distant behind him, slowly but surely being replaced by crickets singing somewhere in the distance and by the wind blowing softly through immaculately trimmed bushes. It wasn’t long before he reached one of the stone pathways that snaked through the gardens, and he followed its course, fully aware of where it would lead him.

Sure enough, she came into view as soon as he climbed the stone steps up to one of the decks that surrounded the property. She had her back to him, both hands braced on the stone balustrade that encircled the terrace, the wisps of hair falling from her low chignon swaying softly at the whim of the breeze blowing from the hills in the distance. 

He didn’t call her name right away, but instead chose to watch the way her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed deeply, surrounded by the long shadows the moon she was looking at cast onto the stone floor.

When he finally spoke, his voice resounded in the night air.

“Ms. Palpatine.”

“Holy sh-”

She whipped her head around at the sound of her name, hand darting up to cover her mouth just in time to stop the swear word from falling from her lips. When her wide eyes found him, she blew out a long breath, eyes fluttering shut as she slumped back against the balustrade and lowered her hand to her heaving chest.

“Shoot,” she panted, opening her eyes slowly, as if relief were washing over her body. “Mr. Solo. I’m sorry. You scared me.”

“If I scared you I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“No.” Shaking her head, she stood up straight again, visibly doing her best to pull herself together. “No, it’s… It’s fine, it’s just... It’s dark out here.”

With a slight smirk, Ben nodded, starting to inch closer to her.

“It is. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded emphatically as she said the word, swallowing thickly before flashing him one of her sunny smiles. “Yeah, I just needed some fresh air. It’s been…” With a small shrug, she gestured vaguely in the direction of the party, tilting her head ever so slightly. “A lot, you know?”

Ben nodded in response, pressing his lips together as his eyes darted up to the moon and then back at her.

“Needed some time to recharge?”

“Something like that, yeah.” 

“I thought you might.” With a smile, he took a step closer to her, extending his hand to offer her one of the flutes he was holding. “Champagne?”

“Oh, thanks!” Her smile widened as she took the drink, stepping away from the edge of the terrace and closer to him. “I’m trying to go easy on the alcohol. I don’t really drink a lot.”

“Right.” Ben’s eyes roamed around the blueish shadows on her face, admiring how faultlessly she’d managed to recompose the polished naiveté of her expression. “That’s wise. You take your time with that,” he added, jerking his head towards the champagne she was holding.

“Cheers,” she replied with a bright smile before raising the glass to her lips and taking the smallest of sips. Her eyes were fixed on his own flute as he took a sip from it, too. “I thought whiskey was your drink of choice.”

“Were you paying attention to me?”

For a millisecond, something flashed in her eyes – a distinct hint of annoyance, like something one would see on the face of a woman about to tell an impertinent man to go fuck himself.

It was uncanny, how quickly her face reverted back to docility. 

“I started working when I was fifteen, so for the last twelve years I’ve been bartending, serving coffee, waiting tables…” With a shy smile, she wet her lower lip, shrugging apologetically. “Memorizing people’s drinks just became second nature at some point.”

“That makes sense.” Ben nodded as he took another sip of champagne, shoving his left hand into his pocket. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be here tonight if you hadn’t been waiting tables at _that_ party, _that_ night, wearing _that_ necklace.”

His eyes looked for the charm as he said that, and, sure enough, there it was: a small silver circle inside of which an intricate star was carved, studded with tiny diamonds and sapphires. There was another pendant hanging from the delicate chain as well, much less glamorous than the other one: a plain golden heart, scratched and dulled by the years. Ben smirked down at both before looking back at her face. 

“What are the odds?”

She agreed with another docile smile, averting her gaze for a moment as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Very slim. That’s why I don’t really believe in coincidences.”

“And what do you believe in?”

The wind whispered on the leaves of the trees in the distance, filling up the silence that stretched between them as she held his gaze, her eyes unreadable. When she spoke again, her voice was low and polite.

“Fate. God. The universe.” Shrugging again, she offered him a small smile, turning her head towards the tree line down below. “I don’t know, I believe there’s something or someone out there pushing us to where we need to be. The right place. The right time.”

“Hm,” Ben hummed, pursing his lips as she looked back at him. “See, I don’t believe in any of that. Fate. God. The universe. Coincidence.”

The smirk that bloomed on her face was different from the other smiles he’d seen on her lips throughout the evening. Hadn’t it been so incredibly subtle, he would have said it was flirty.

“And what do _you_ believe in?”

He took the smallest of steps towards her before he answered, eyes trained on her face.

“I believe in intelligence. In people who are smart enough to create opportunities for themselves.”

Her face fell ever so slightly at the words, but she pulled herself together in an instant, doing the thing with her head that made her look like the picture of innocence.

“What does that mean?” she asked softly, eyes slightly narrowed, as if trying to solve a puzzle.

“I think you know what that means.” 

“I don’t think I do.”

Ben felt a side smile pull at the corner of his lips as his eyes roamed her face, and let out a small chuckle when he found nothing but the most believable cluelessness in her hazel-green eyes.

“You know, I’ve been doing this for a while now. Estate planning. And you wouldn’t _believe_ the amount of con artists I’ve come across.”

She was _unbelievable_ , he thought as he watched her eyes widen in shock, lips parting softly to let out a quiet, “Oh.”

“Have…” She swallowed, furrowing her brow as a faultless mix of disbelief and indignation replaced surprise on her face. “Have people tried to con my grandfather?”

Ben couldn’t help the husky laugh that rose from his chest at the words, looking the other way as he licked his lips.

“Oh, yes,” he drawled as he turned his eyes back to her face. “Many times. But he’s an incredibly cunning man himself, so no one’s ever gotten as far as you have.”

He watched as her brow furrowed ever further, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly – just enough to make her confusion entirely believable.

“I beg your pardon?”

“God, you’re _brilliant_ ,” he huffed, mostly to himself, as he shook his head in stunned disbelief. “The best I’ve ever seen, by a long shot.”

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you,” she murmured, her voice thick with righteous indignation, her expression switching slowly from disoriented to hurt. “You can’t be implying what I think you are.”

“There’s no need to play this game,” he replied in an equally low murmur, working his jaw. “Not with me.”

When she didn’t say a word, he inched even closer; close enough that she had to crane her neck to hold his unwavering gaze.

“It was a stroke of genius, the feigning disinterest thing.” The depth of his own voice was surprising even to his own ears, thick as it was with genuine admiration. “The way you made _him_ see the necklace, the way you set it up so he felt like _he_ was in charge of the situation. The way you got him practically _begging_ you for that DNA test.” He let out another small chuckle as he wet his lips, hand still in his pocket, the other one hanging loosely next to his body, holding a flute of champagne. “The starry-eyed, gullible, slightly thick girl act. The ‘lonely, love-starved orphan who couldn’t care less about an eighty-billion-dollar fortune as long as she gets a grandpa’ thing. _Genius_.”

Rey responded by taking a step back as she drew in a shaky breath, hazel eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“You’re sick,” she breathed out, balling her fists by her sides. “ _Sick_. You think I’d _lie_ about that? My parents, my childhood, my –”

“Oh, no, that was all true.” Ben offered her a knowing smirk as he watched her lock her jaw and swallow thickly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a genius, but no one could have faked _that_.” He jerked his head towards the tennis court as he said the last word, refusing to break eye contact. “Not even you. You _are_ an orphan. Your childhood must have been hell. You had to learn to fend for yourself from a very young age, ‘cause no one else would. That’s all true. I could have told from a mile away.”

When he took a step towards her, she responded by taking another step back.

“Isn’t that how you build the road to the perfect lie?” he murmured, raising an eyebrow. “Paving it with half-truths?”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” she said breathlessly, shaking her head before trying to storm past him. He took a step to the side to stop her, causing her to come to a halt mere inches away from his body; so close he could feel her warmth.

“Life’s dealt you some very shitty cards, but instead of throwing in the towel you chose to become a card shark. I respect that, _Ms. Palpatine_. I respect it very much.”

“Get out of my way.”

“I’m not a threat, Rey,” he murmured with a shake of his head. “And I’m not lying when I say I admire you. Your talent. What I’m trying to say is we could turn this into something mutually beneficial.”

“Are you…” She squeezed her eyes shut, bringing her hands to her temples as if struggling to make sense of the absurdity of what she’d just heard. “Are you accusing me of being a con artist, of trying to swindle an old man out of his fortune by toying with his grief _and_ asking me if you can join in?” When she opened her eyes, they were glistening with tears again. “What the hell’s _wrong with you_? My grandfather _trusts_ you.”

“He does,” Ben agreed, biting his lips. “Goes to show that you can trust me, too. For entirely different reasons, of course.”

Her heels clicked on wet stone as she took two steps back in slow motion, lips parted and eyes narrowed down to slits.

“I know what’s going on here,” she murmured. Her voice went up a few decibels as she went on, shaking with anger. “Spoiled rich boy thinks he’s sitting on a fortune, then a no one from freaking _Jakku_ shows up and ruins his greedy little plans, so he threatens to frame her for something she didn’t do, hoping that his influence and his power will be enough to scare her away. Did I miss something?” 

“You missed the part where you get caught,” Ben replied, his voice low and dead serious. “You’re good, and you’re bold as all fuck, but you’re not perfect. No one is. And if I caught on to you, it’s a matter of time until someone else will.” There was a sense of urgency simmering in his chest when he took a step forward, eyes locked with hers. “What I’m offering you is an alliance.”

“Stay away from me,” she said in a trembling whisper, anger burning in her eyes. “And leave me alone.”

This time around he didn’t try to stop her when she stormed past him, drying her eyes. He just turned around to watch her walk away, not without noticing her balance was impeccable as she strode towards the stairs in her stiletto heels and disappeared down the moonlit stone steps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so that happened. This story just popped into my head the first time I listened to [cowboy like me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPlNBb6I8qU), and it's been haunting me ever since, so I had to write it. All ten chapters have been pre-written, so you can expect weekly updates every Friday. 
> 
> As usual, kudos, bookmarks and comments make my day. Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Love your faces <3


	2. Bandit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, fam! Sorry this one's a bit late - something came up at work and I wasn't able to edit it in time to post it yesterday. Better late than never though, right? I hope you enjoy it <3

The sun was shining high over the tennis court, making sweat trickle down Ben’s temples as he banged his closed fist against his thigh.

“C’mon, Solo, I don’t have all day.”

He frowned at the words, looking up to find Phasma standing across the court, racket hanging limply by her side. Wiping his forehead, he made a point of scowling at her before fishing a tennis ball out of the pocket of his shorts.

“In a hurry to lose?”

The woman scoffed at his words, hitting her racket against the palm of her hand before positioning herself to receive his serve.

“In your dreams.”

“Advantage Phasma,” Mitaka announced from the sideline, and Ben turned to face him without wiping the scowl from his face.

“Thank you, Mitaka. Hadn’t realized.”

The short man swallowed thickly under Ben’s stare, averting his gaze as soon as their eyes locked, and Ben took the opportunity to chance another furtive glance at the bench sitting just outside the court. Once again, he found Rey smiling brightly at her grandfather, hand darting up to cover her mouth as she laughed at something he’d said.

“Solo, what the fuck’s up with you today?” Phasma yelled from the opposite baseline, causing Ben’s head to snap back in her direction.

“I pulled something in my leg at the end of that rally,” he yelled, throwing the ball to the floor and catching it when it bounced back up. “Will you give me a fucking break?”

“ _No!”_ She bent her knees, leaning forward as her grip tightened around the handle of her racket. “Serve or get the fuck off the court.”

“As you wish,” he mumbled. Locking his jaw as he held her gaze, he made the ball bounce once again before finally throwing it up and serving it overhead.

He grunted as he landed, wincing at the pain in his thigh the second his right foot hit the ground. The discomfort didn’t keep his eyes from following the ball as it bounced off the other side of the court, though, nor did it stop his stomach from fluttering with triumph as he watched his serve fly to Pahsma’s left.

Much to his dismay, her backhand seemed to be almost as strong as her forehand. The sound of her grunt and of her racket meeting the ball echoed through the court, and Ben sprinted to hit her shot back, feeling the impact right on his wrists as he positioned his racket to try and add some spin to his return.

For a glorious second, it seemed like it had worked; that he’d made his shot almost unreachable, but once again the swelling triumph in his chest was squashed by the sheer broadness of Phasma’s swing. He really wasn’t used to playing against people his size, he thought as he watched her reach out and return his hit by the skin of her teeth, a grimace twisting her face as she sent the ball flying back to him.

And then many things happened at the same time. 

He watched the ball hit the ground and whoosh towards his left, so he sprinted against the pain on his leg, jaw locked and forehead creased from the effort. The most inconvenient part, however, was that he happened to be running to the side of the court where Rey was sitting, and she chose that exact moment to cross and uncross her legs, still laughing, causing the short pleated skirt she was wearing to ride up her thighs.

Ben only looked for a millisecond, but it was enough. By the time he twisted his torso to hit his backhand, the ball was already wheezing past his ear, cutting through the air on its way to the back of the court.

“Fuck!” he spat as Phasma’s victory cry resounded through the court. Leaning forward to brace his hands on his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut, furrowing his brow. “ _Shit._ ”

“Tough luck, Solo,” she laughed, raising her racket in the air. Ben was panting heavily when he raised his eyes to look at her, damp locks of hair clinging his forehead. “Time for the adults to play. Where’s Hux?”

“Hopefully in hell,” Ben muttered as he stood up straight, wetting his lips, and brought his free hand to his hip. Phasma didn’t seem to hear him, because she had her eyes on the mansion when he glanced at her again, hand shielding her eyes from the sun, as if expecting to see a red-headed speck heading towards them in the distance. 

Still panting heavily, Ben hit his thigh again as he made his way out of the court, feeling his shirt cling to the sweat on his chest and back.

“Mitaka,” he heard Palpatine call, and the sound made him glance involuntarily towards the bench only to find Rey’s eyes on him. She looked away immediately. “Why don’t you play until Hux gets here? He should be down in a minute.”

“With all due respect, sir…” Phasma began to say, but their boss must have shot her one of his death stares, because after a moment she huffed and said, “C’mon,get in here.”

Ben had his head down, trying to catch his breath, by the time he finally reached the bench, which is probably why the sound of Rey’s voice took him by surprise, making something stir uncomfortably in his stomach.

“What happened?” she asked, the curiosity in her tone sounding faultlessly innocent. “Did you lose?”

He ignored her as he dropped his racket to the grass and leaned down to pull a bottle of water out of the cooler sitting next to the bench. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a visibly terrified Mitaka make his way into the court.

“Yes, honey, that was the third set,” Palpatine answered as Ben threw his head back, downing the water in long gulps. 

“Oh, right,” she said. “Sorry, I’m still learning the rules.”

He finally looked at her then, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, to find her looking up at him with thinly veiled amusement glimmering in her hazel-green eyes.

“I’m sure you are,” he mumbled as the unmistakable sound of a ball being served echoed behind him. Brushing his damp hair back, he brought the bottle back to his lips.

“And she’s a fast learner too,” Palpatine said proudly. “At the end of the last set she complimented Phasma’s _lob_. Can you believe that?”

“Really impressive,” Ben panted, wiping his mouth again as he threw the empty bottle back into the cooler.

“I’ve been told I’m smarted than I look.”

She smiled as she said that, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“That’s a good thing,” Ben replied as he shifted on his feet, hands on his hips, eyes trained on her face. Behind him, the metallic sound of the ball bouncing off the court kept echoing rhythmically. “Intelligence will take you much further than appearances in this world.”

“Look at him,” Palpatine said, shooting Ben a wide smile. “Teaching you your first lesson in business without boring you to death with his spreadsheets.”

“I don’t mind spreadsheets.” Rey’s tone was sunny and warm, and so was the biddable smile on her lips when she turned around to face her grandfather.

“Of course you don’t, honey,” the man answered, patting her cheek with gargantuan doses of condescension in his eyes. “But we’ll have plenty of that throughout the week. Let’s focus on the entertainment part of it all for now, shall we? Did you try on your dress for tonight?”

Rey swallowed thickly as she nodded, averting her gaze down to her hands.

“Yeah,” she said, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. Ben did his best to keep his eyes on her face. “Yeah, it’s really pretty.”

“Hey,” Palpatine replied, placing his finger under her chin to raise her eyes to his. “I know you’re nervous, but you understand why I had to do it, right? There are so many important people I had to leave out of yesterday’s dinner.”

“No, of course,” she hurried to say, nodding as she swallowed. “Of course, I’m just kinda overwhelmed from yesterday. That’s all.”

“But you did so well, honey.” Palpatine shifted on the bench as he placed his hand on hers, the smile on his lips failing to reach his eyes. “Everyone loved you. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” she breathed out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I’m acting stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” her grandfather replied with the unmistakably patronizing tone of someone who wholeheartedly believes to be talking to a stupid person. “It’s only natural for you to feel this way. Tell you what,” he added with a small smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but that Ben found anything but, “why don’t you go lie down a bit? Read, get some rest, maybe go for a swim. I think one match was more than enough tennis for today.”

“Really?” she asked with a hesitant smile, looking up at Palpatine with her head slightly lowered. Her voice sounded so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of sneakers squeaking against the tennis court. “Would that be okay?”

“Of course! Go do something that keeps your mind off tonight for now. I want you looking ravishing, not like someone who was bored to death by tennis all day.”

Rey laughed softly at that, and Ben couldn’t take his eyes off her side profile as she did _the thing_ with her head, tilting it to the side just a bit, but enough for Palpatine to flash her another affectionate smile.

“Right, I think I’ll go to my bedroom then. Rest a bit more.”

“You do that, honey,” Palpatine said, giving her hand a final squeeze. “Let the help know if you need anything.”

“I will.” She smiled as she stood up, her tone flawlessly meek. “Thank you, grandpa. Mr. Solo,” she added politely as she walked past Ben, offering him the quickest of side glances and a short nod of acknowledgement.

“Ms. Palpatine.”

His eyes didn’t follow her as she made her way past him, but his head remained turned to the side as he worked his jaw.

“Ben, my boy,” Palpatine said after a moment, and Ben looked ahead to find the man patting the empty spot by his side on the bench. “Will you sit with me?”

“Of course,” he replied with a tight smile, grabbing another bottle of water before plopping down on the bench. He sat down just in time to watch Phasma’s serve whoosh past Mitaka’s head in the most effortless ace he’d ever witnessed.

“The poor thing,” Palpatine murmured with no pity in his cold voice. “Hope he doesn’t get hurt.”

“He can count himself lucky if he doesn’t leave the court on a stretcher,” Ben replied as he swallowed a gulp of water, furrowing his brow.

“Phasma’s on a winning streak,” the man agreed, crossing his arms as he leaned back. “How’s that leg feeling, by the way?”

“I’ll live,” Ben mumbled as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

“I should hope so. Although I must say…” Palpatine’s voice was smooth and dangerously calm, and Ben could feel the man’s eyes on him as he watched Mitaka struggle to return Phasma’s spinning forehand. “I was worried about you there. Never seen you miss so many balls.”

“I wasn’t focused,” Ben replied, wiping sweat off his temple. He locked his jaw before bringing the plastic bottle back to his lips. “Had my mind on something else.”

“On Rey, yes.”

The words caused Ben to choke on the water in his mouth, and he coughed hard, hitting his closed fist against his chest.

“Sir,” he rasped, clearing his throat as he sat up. “What do you –” 

“C’mon, Ben, I’m not blind. I know what’s going on here.”

Ben felt his blood freeze at the words, an odd buzz filling his ears as he held Palpatine’s gaze. He tried hard not to let any of it show – the cold, unrelenting fist that seemed to squeeze his stomach, the thrumming blood that flooded his ears, the odd sense of dread that filled his chest, as if he were the one getting caught.

He must have succeeded, judging by his boss’ unchanging expression. He’d gotten good enough at it through the years, after all, but still he made an extra effort to make sure his expression remained contained and casually curious as he answered.

“Sir?” he said calmly, wiping his mouth again. “I’m sorry, I don’t think –”

“Son,” Palpatine interrupted, a conspiratorial smile on his lips. “It’s only natural. She’s pretty. You’re young.”

When the man looked at him with malice gleaming in his eyes, Ben couldn’t help the unexplainable wave of relief that washed over him at the realization that _that’s_ what they were talking about.

“Mr. Palpatine, with all due respect to your granddaughter, that didn’t even cross my mind. Really. I –”

“I’m old, Benjamin,” Palpatine interrupted again, turning his eyes towards the court with a slight smirk on his lips. “Old enough to understand what a man wants when he follows a woman out of a party holding two glasses of champagne. Or when he finds it so hard to keep his eyes off of her he ends up pulling a muscle. And losing a match he could have won in his sleep. Against a hungover opponent.”

“Sir –”

“Ben.” The man’s voice was low and calm when he turned to face Ben again, the smirk still lifting the corner of his lips. “Trust me, I’m not telling you off. Quite the opposite, really.”

Blinking a few times, Ben felt his brow crease as his eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the man’s words.

“I don’t think I’m following, sir.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Palpatine drawled with an unmistakable sense of delight dripping from every word. “You’re a very intelligent man, Ben. And, between you and me, I think you’ve also noticed that Rey is… a _lovely_ young girl. But not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

It was considerably harder to swallow back the amused, sarcastic scoff that threatened to rise from Ben’s chest as he heard the words, but he held his ground, pressing his lips together as he pretended to be pondering the affirmation.

“I worry, you know?” the old man proceeded when Ben remained silent. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m _ecstatic_ to have found her, but I worry about the future of the company after I’m gone. I’m afraid she might lack… the _spunk_ it will take to keep things working as they should, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, yes.” The words fell from Ben’s mouth before he could think better of them, but luckily sheer instinct didn’t let them show a fraction of the sarcasm they carried. “She _definitely_ lacks spunk.”

For some reason, Palpatine’s content smile made Ben roll his jaw.

“So I think you can understand me when I say it could be… beneficial. This thing between you two.” The man turned to face Ben as he spoke, eyes gleaming with barely contained satisfaction. “Think about it, that’s all I’m asking. It’s a win-win situation. She carries on the Palpatine name – the Palpatine _blood_ – and you… _relieve her_ of the burden of worrying about the company.”

Turning his eyes back to the court, Palpatine threw Ben a knowing side glance, lips still curled around the corners, before waving his hand dismissively. 

“Just put that Solo charm to good use. I’m sure it must be buried somewhere in there, under all that sulking.”

Luckily enough, his boss’s attention was temporarily fixed on Mitaka returning a ball straight to the net when Ben’s nostrils flared out – an involuntary consequence of the disorienting mix of feelings the words stoked in his chest.

Spite. Pain. Anger. Guilt.

He locked his jaw, teeth grinding from the effort of trying to coax his face back into neutrality.

“I don’t think it’s that simple, sir,” he said, voice slightly strained. “It’s not like she’s an asset I could just buy.”

“Isn’t she?” Palpatine said calmly, his voice dangerously velvety as he threw Ben an amused side smile. “Isn’t everyone?” Inside the court, Mitaka yelped as the ball missed his head by a few inches at the exact same time the man turned to face Ben again. “Everyone’s an asset in this game, Ben. You know that better than anyone. Don’t let her pretty eyes cloud your judgement.”

The image of her eyes flashing inside Ben’s head was inconvenient, but he managed to push it away in a second, limiting his response to a short nod.

“Everyone’s an asset,” Palpatine went on, eyes sparkling as if saying it out loud gave him immeasurable pleasure. “Some of them are invaluable, some of them are disposable, some of them are negotiable, some of them are burdensome. It’s up to each individual to decide which one they’re going to be.”

“You’re right, sir. Of course,” Ben rasped, swallowing as he pretended to watch Phasma’s serve. 

“You’re a very intelligent man,” he heard Palpatine murmur to his left. “I have no doubt you’ll make the best decision. For both of you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

Ben realized his right leg was bouncing anxiously as he said that, so he placed his hand over his thigh, squeezing it ever so slightly as he leaned back.

“That leg’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

It took him a second to register Palpatine’s words, but when he did he took the opportunity to doctor his expression into a slightly pained frown.

“A bit, yes.” He nodded, squeezing his thigh again. “I think I should put some ice on it.”

“Absolutely,” Palpatine agreed, lips pursed in obviously faked concern. “I want you feeling brand new tonight. See you at lunch?”

“Of course.”

Ben made a point of tottering ever so slightly as he got up, throwing his boss a nod and a tight smile before starting to make his way around the court, towards the mansion. 

His white shirt was still slightly damp, sweat renewed by the scorching sun shining bright over the lawn, so he tugged at the fabric as he walked, blowing out a long, quivering breath.

He’d surely have to recalculate his route from here.

She was stubborn, he thought, something warm and weirdly out of place swelling in his chest. Stubborn and proud, which was obviously what made her as good as she was, but which could also be her demise if she refused to be more flexible.

He wiped a hand down his face and brushed his hair back as he climbed the steps separating the court from the front garden, as then exhaled heavily again as he looked at the mansion.

She was bound to get caught.

To be completely honest, he had no idea why the mere thought of it made his throat clamp up like that. It wouldn’t make a difference to him. It could actually be beneficial, he thought as he made his way around geometrical flower beds, the soft crunch of his steps on ordered gravel paths joining the sound of birds chirping in the distance. It would be ideal, having her out of the picture; leaving the estate up for dispute again; working his way into the will like he’d always planned to do. She was right, in a way. He _had_ been sitting on a fortune, and she _had_ disrupted that, so why did a weird sense of alarm threaten to claw its way up his chest at the thought of Palpatine catching up to her scheme?

Because she was good, he told himself as he climbed the steps up to the front door and walked into the front hall. The soles of his sneakers squeaked against polished parquet as he walked towards the grandiose staircase bisecting the atrium, the crystal chandelier above his head reflecting shards of light onto the floor.

Because she was _too good_ to pass up as an ally. Because they could both make more money from an alliance than they would working on their own.

It was the only plausible explanation, he decided as he jogged his way up to the first floor, the pain on his leg slowly but surely subsiding to mere discomfort.

He had absolutely no other reason to care about her. 

Despite his very sane conclusion, her face was still taking up a considerable chunk of his thoughts as he swerved into the hallway that would lead him to his bedroom, which is probably why his stomach did a somersault as he rounded the corner.

It was as if his thoughts had conjured her a few short feet away, fiddling with the doorknob of a door he happened to know all too well.

She drew in a sharp breath as soon as she noticed his presence, which didn’t take long at all. She was so fast to turn around, in fact, that he didn’t get to see whatever it was that she was holding before she hid it behind her back.

“Having trouble there?”

His voice was low and calm as he said it, and he couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his lips when she dropped her hand back to her side, apparently having succeeded in hiding what he assumed was a bobby pin.

He drew closer to her as she raised her chin and squared her shoulders, taking a barely noticeable step back.

“I’m trying to find my room”

“Your room’s on the second floor,” he replied, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “I think you know that.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Solo,” Rey retorted, voice slightly shaky, raising her chin even higher to hold his gaze as he approached. “Some of us aren’t used to living in an eighty-thousand-square-foot mansion.”

“Weird, right?” he said, his words drenched in sarcasm as he furrowed his brow in feigned fascination. “An eighty-thousand-square-foot mansion, and you manage to get lost on your way to your bedroom and end up in front of Palpatine’s office, of all places.” She swallowed thickly at that. It made Ben smile. “Your life’s full of unlikely coincidences, isn’t it?”

“I told you to stay away from me.”

“Oh, but that’s my bedroom.” He pointed at one of the doors lining the other side of the corridor, just a few feet away, but Rey didn’t take her eyes off his face. “Right there. So maybe I’m the one who should be telling you to stay away from me.”

His words made her scoff, shoulders shaking with derision as she moved to walk past him.

“I don’t have to listen to this.”

“You’re right, you don’t,” he said, once again stepping to the side to keep her from leaving. Her lower lip trembled with anger as he looked down at her, forearm resting on the wall to block her passage. “But you should listen to _this_. There are cracks, you know? In your façade.” Without realizing his body was doing it, he leaned in as he spoke, his voice lowered to a barely audible murmur. “Most of them are _very_ small. Barely noticeable. Really minor stuff, like you looking at my glass of whiskey like it was a glass of ice cold water in the middle of the desert yesterday. You know what that tells me?” When she leaned back to keep him at a distance, jaw locked and lips pursed, he moved an inch closer to her. “That whiskey’s your drink of choice, but you kept forcing yourself to sip on a single flute of champagne the entire evening ‘cause hard liquor doesn’t go well with the Mother Theresa thing you’re trying to pull off.”

“You done with your little fanfic?”

She spat the words as she squared her shoulders, indignation glimmering in her eyes as she narrowed them at him. Ben smirked in return.

“No. Not really, ‘cause there’s other stuff, too.” He glanced casually to the side, making sure the hallway was completely empty before locking eyes with her again. “You know, like you panicking when you almost cursed in front of me, or the way your forehead creases whenever you have to say ‘freaking’ instead of ‘fucking’ and ‘shoot’ instead of ‘shit’. It looks like you’re about to burst, which tells me you’re probably _very_ foul mouthed, and trying not to swear to keep up the Goody-Two-Shoes thing is taking everything you have. How’s that for a fanfic?”

His mouth twitched into a small smirk as she pressed her lips together, letting out a quivering breath through her nose. She straightened her spine defiantly as he smiled, but didn’t say a word.

“And, of course, there’s the way you looked at me like you wanted to punch me square in the face yesterday. Which happens to be the same way you’re looking at me now,” he added, eyes roaming around her face; taking in the slight tremble of her lower lip, the paleness around her nostrils, the barely contained anger simmering in her eyes. “Of course you can’t punch me ‘cause of the Mother Theresa thing, so within a second you’ll start crying again and accusing me of being a monster, but it’s there now. Clear as day.” He bit the insides of his cheeks as he watched her lips purse around the corners. “That anger. That fire. That’s the death stare of a lioness, not a lamb, and we both know that.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I? ‘Cause those are the small things, the tiny cracks, but then there are the big ones, too. Like me catching you trying to break into Palpatine’s office in broad daylight,” he said casually, eyes darting to the lock she’d been trying to pick. “You’re lucky it was me, by the way, but it’s bound to happen again. It’s inevitable when you’re trying to pull off something this big, so I’m going to say it again: if I caught on to you, it’s a matter of time until someone else will.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” she breathed out in a shaky, incredulous whisper. “To how _unhinged_ you sound? I’m his _granddaughter_.” Her eyes filled with tears as she said the words, teeth slightly bared, and Ben had to swallow back a smug ‘told you so’ at the sight. “Why are you trying to take that away from me? I took the DNA test, what else do you want from me?” Her voice went up as it swelled with righteous indignation, strained from her tears. “Do you think anyone could forge a DNA test _inside_ Empire Labs? Under my grandfather’s nose? He _literally_ owns the place!”

“You have a point there,” Ben conceded, cocking his head. “ _Very_ few people in the world would have been able to pull that off.” Rolling his lips, he glanced down at the shiny pendant hanging from her neck. “And very few people would be able to get their hands on a forgery that good.”

“You’re crossing every single line here,” she shout-whispered, a tear finally escaping the corner of her eye as she balled her hands into fists by her sides. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you’ve gone way too far. My grandfather will be hearing about this.”

“Will he?” Ben asked, narrowing his eyes as he knitted his brows together. “‘Cause I feel like you would have already told him if you were half as outraged as you’re pretending to be. Does he know you’re up here, by the way? Trying to break into his office while he plays tennis?”

When Rey didn’t answer, he pursed his lips, looking at the office door again.

“What’s in there for you, anyway?” he murmured, mostly to himself, before looking back at her. “You already have him wrapped around your finger, what could you possibly want in his…”

The rest of the sentence caught in his throat as he watched her swallow thickly, because that’s when it clicked.

He felt his jaw go slack as the pieces fell into place – the amount of influence it would have taken to forge that DNA test; the kind of prize that would convince someone this good to risk their neck doing something this bold after years of flying under the radar; the odds at stake that would justify the risk of exposing herself in broad daylight like this. 

“You’re not a con artist.”

The words came out in a low, barely audible whisper, but they still made Rey’s eyes widen, jaw dropping in disbelief.

“Oh, really?” she spat, sarcasm dripping from her parted lips as she furrowed her brow. “Are you sure, Sherlock? ‘Cause up until a second ago you were –”

“No, I mean, you _are_ a con artist,” he rectified, closing his eyes for a moment as he shook his head, “but that’s not what you’re doing here, is it? You’re not after his money. You’re looking for something.”

She closed her mouth slowly under his unwavering stare, clearly mustering all of her ability to keep shock from showing in her eyes.

“Who do you work for?”

“This is the last time I’m telling you to leave me alone,” she hissed, making to storm past him again. This time around, he took a step towards her, and she took a step back, pressing her back to the wooden door as he caged her between his body and the wall.

“Is it industrial espionage?” he whispered, eyes flickering back and forth between her eyes and her pursed lips. “The Saudi? The Chinese?”

“Get the _fuck_ out of my way.”

“Told you,” he said as he cocked one of his brows, shooting her a smug side smile. “Foul mouthed.”

This time around, the smile finally seemed to make her snap.

It was borderline eerie, watching the girl he’d diligently observed for twelve hours disappear without a trace, leaving a whole different person behind.

In a second, her face was wiped clean from any indication of indignation, hurt, outrage, shock. Gone were the tears, the trembling lips, the wide eyes.

All that was left was fire.

It burned in the way she straightened her spine and lifted her chin like a serpent about to pounce; in the firm, resolute line of her pressed lips and clenched jaw; in the palpable, undiluted spite that had replaced childlike umbrage in her eyes.

When she spoke, her voice was low. Smooth. Immeasurably menacing. 

“How’s this for a foul mouth, big boy?” Moving an inch forward, she craned her neck to stare him right in the eye before splaying her open hands across his chest. He could feel her breath on his chin. “Next time you cage me against a wall like a fucking _caveman_ I’ll kick you in the nuts so fucking hard you’ll be choking on your own balls. Did I make myself clear?”

The pressure she applied to his chest could barely be called a shove, but it still made Ben retreat, hands falling to his sides. Then he stared at her, lips parted and breathing ragged, with the same reverent awe with which an arsonist would stare into open flames.

“There you are,” he rasped, hearing his blood roar in his ears. “Nice to meet you, Rey.”

“It’s _Ms. Palpatine_ to you,” she whispered in the same rock-solid, spite-drenched tone, not bothering putting back the mask she’d dropped. 

“See you at the ball, _Ms. Palpatine_ ,” Ben said as she walked past him, and she stopped by his side on the hallway, turning her head to face him.

She shot him a small, sarcastic smile and narrowed her eyes before saying a calm, unbothered, “Go fuck yourself.”

His eyes followed her when she resumed her stride, fixed on her back until she rounded the corner and disappeared up the stairs. Then he stood there for another moment, staring at the point where she’d disappeared as he brought a hand over his parted lips.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, thumb tracing his lower lip, unwavering gaze still glued to the end of the corridor.

He stood there frozen for a few seconds before letting out a long breath and running his fingers through his damp hair, brushing it back.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The question came out in a quiet murmur, and Ben swallowed as her words bounced around in his skull, hands still in his hair, his heart beating furiously inside his chest.

And then his own words slithered into his thoughts, uninvited, making his lips part softly.

_Very few people in the world would have been able to pull that off._

“Ha,” he breathed out, brow furrowing. “Shit.”

It was a farfetched idea. Highly unlikely.

Definitely worth a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand the plot thickens. I had so much fun reading your theories last week, so please, keep them coming! What do you think's going on? What's Rey up to? Did you miss feral, foul-mouthed, takes-no-bullshit Rey while she was gone? Don't worry, she'll be staying with us from here on out *wink wink, nudge nudge*. 
> 
> Kudos, bookmarks and comments water my plans and clear my skin, so please let me know what you think! Love your faces!


	3. A dangerous game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ! 
> 
> Okay, so I have no idea how this happened, but I accidentally deleted two tags from this fic before I posted the first chapter: Implied/Referenced Physical Abuse and Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction. I know both can be major triggers for some people, so I wanted to make sure you check the tags again before you keep reading. Both tags refer to very brief, non-graphic mentions of traumatic experiences Rey had growing up (namely involving family members/guardians), but I’ll make sure to add a specific trigger warning at the beginning of the chapter where they apply.

An hour, forty minutes and fifteen seconds had gone by since Rey had walked into the main ballroom of the mansion on her grandfather’s arm under a polite yet vigorous wave of applause.

Ben would have known, because that meant he’d now spent an hour, forty minutes and fifteen seconds fighting the odd tightness in his throat; clammy hand balled into a fist inside his pocket.

It also meant that for an hour, forty minutes and fifteen seconds he’d been trying to make sense of this odd state of mental detachment that made him feel like all the sounds around him were slightly muffled, including that of Hux bending his ear.

“Solo, are you even listening to me?” the man finally spat, lips pursed in disapproval.

“Yeah,” Ben answered casually, working his jaw. “Yeah, the Starkiller Fund. I already told, advise him to jump ship. That shit’s gonna blow up.”

“You’re not _listening_ ,” the man insisted, lowering his voice as he stepped closer. “We’re not talking a few million, okay? We’re talking the kind of money –”

“That will make Palpatine very unhappy if it goes down the drain because you’re too stupid to admit you’re wrong,” Ben completed, taking a sip of whiskey as his eyes glanced over Hux’s shoulder.

Sure enough, there she was, standing across the room. It felt like she was everywhere he looked, smiling and beaming at another big fish, sheepishly fixing the wavy hairdo her shoulder-length bob had been styled into. 

She was standing directly beneath one of the massive crystal chandeliers now, which meant her dark silver gown gleamed under the light every time she moved. Her skin was also looking particularly radiant, especially on the vast expanse of her right thigh the one-shouldered dress left exposed.

Ben swallowed before turning his eyes back to Hux.

“That’s the kind of misstep that could get you killed, you know?”

Hux tried to keep a straight face at the words, but there wasn’t much he could do about his lips going a worrying shade of white. It made Ben bite back a smile as he wet his lips, eyes looking for Rey again by pure instinct.

When he found her, she was covering her mouth, laughing wholeheartedly at something Senator Tarkin was saying. Her smile was so broad it dimpled her cheeks, and Ben was so invested in this new discovery he didn’t even notice the figure approaching from his right until she was touching his arm.

“Mr. Solo?” 

When he turned towards the sound, he found a blonde woman flashing him a line of perfectly aligned pearly white teeth, head cocked as she gave his upper arm a gentle squeeze.

“Yes,” he answered, brow furrowed. “And you are?”

The girl’s face fell slightly at the question, but he could only tell by the way the gleam in her blue eyes went down a notch. Her smile remained unchanged as she used the hand that had been holding his arm to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Pat?” she said with playful tentativeness. When Ben didn’t answer, her smile widened. “Patricia Krennic, Orson Krennic’s daughter? We met in April when you had dinner with us. The day you had a meeting with my father?”

“Oh, of course,” Ben said politely, resisting the urge to let out a long sigh. He _did_ remember her – Ms. No Respect for Personal Space Whatsoever. “How’s your father doing?”

“Great,” she beamed, fixing the spaghetti strap of her black dress. “He should be here in a second – board meeting; you know how those things are.”

“Sure,” he replied absentmindedly, gaze flickering towards Rey again. This time, it lingered there for a moment, because he found her staring back at him, her lips still set in the smile she’d put on to listen to whatever Tarkin was saying. She looked away immediately.

The girl next to him, on the other hand, kept her eyes on his face.

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping us out,” she continued, forcing Ben to look back at her. “Mom and I were having such a hard time trying to convince dad to leave the estate sorted out, but he’s _so_ hard-headed. Even after the heart surgery, he wouldn’t…”

As she spoke, Ben glanced quickly towards the other side of the room again to find Rey listening to Palpatine and sipping on her champagne, lips curled into a smile that didn’t crinkle the corners of her eyes. 

“… and then the _golf cart thing_ , and still he wouldn’t budge, so when Mr. Palpatine recommended you it was a real godsend, you know?”

“I can imagine,” Hux said, mouth twisted into a sardonic smirk. “Solo being the warm ray of sunshine he is.”

“Oh,” the girl said, eyes widening as if she’d only just noticed Hux’s presence. “I’m so sorry, you are?”

“Armitage Hux,” the man said as he shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Krennic.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she said politely before turning back to Ben. “I’m really sorry to interrupt, you just left so fast after dinner that day I didn’t even get a chance to thank you properly.”

“No need to thank me,” Ben answered, doing his best to keep his tone polite. “It’s my job.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rey glance his way, and his eyes darted towards her, which once again made her look away.

“That’s another thing I wanted to discuss with you,” Patricia said, fiddling with her long, sparkly earring as she smiled. “You remember the company I was founding, don’t you? Skincare, body care, home spa?”

“Vaguely, yeah.” 

The girl’s smile faltered at Ben’s tone, but he found it very hard to concentrate on sounding interested when he could clearly see someone approaching Rey in his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, so, I’ve been having a few issues with the financial part of it all, especially tax laws, so I was wondering if we could discuss that someday? Maybe over lunch, or…?”

She cocked her head as she smiled, and Ben couldn’t help but notice how theatrical it looked compared to Rey’s subtle, meticulously calculated head tilt. The thought made his gaze flicker across the room again of its own accord, but this time around he didn’t find her looking back. On the contrary, he found her smiling brightly at a tall young man who had his hand on her waist as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, his chestnut hair styled with a frankly ridiculous amount of pomade.

“Unfortunately I don’t specialize in that, Ms. Krennic,” he answered as his eyes bounced back to Patricia, forcing himself to flash her a tight, apologetic smile. “But I _can_ recommend you a _very_ good accountant.” Squeezing Hux’s shoulder with admittedly unnecessary force, he did his best to ignore Rey throwing her head back, laughing at something the man had said.

To no avail, of course.

Patricia opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke before she did.

“I’m sorry, will you excuse me?” he said, barely able to concentrate on the girl’s now obviously fake smile. “I believe Palpatine just called me over there.”

“Of course,” she replied, her tone perfectly polite. “Of course, thank you again. For helping us out.”

“Again, no need to thank me. Really. Hux,” Ben said as he walked past the man in front of him, patting his shoulder before making his way into the crowd.

If he really _was_ going to do this, now was as good a time as any.

The small group was standing by one of the huge arched windows that lined each side of the room, so Ben marched in that direction, weaving his way through fake laughter, clinking glasses and couples swaying to a pretentious jazzy rendition of some bossa nova song.

The light of the chandeliers above caught on diamonds, sparkling champagne and fake smiles alike, and Ben tried his best not to make eye contact with anyone as he fixed his jacket and strode across the shiny parquet floor.

Rey did her best to pretend she didn’t notice him approaching from her right, but he could tell she could sense him by the way her grip tightened around the crystal flute she was holding.

Palpatine, on the other hand, didn’t make a point of ignoring his arrival at all.

“Ben!” the man said warmly, opening his arms as Ben approached the group. “There you are, we were just talking about you. I don’t think you’ve met Richard, have you?” Gesturing towards Mr. Too Much Pomade, Palpatine smiled, pulling Rey closer to him so Ben could join the group right by her side. “Richard Tarkin, Wilhuff’s grandnephew? He went to Coruscant Law, too. Just gave us the wonderful news he’s running for Congress next year.”

“I don’t think we’ve met, no,” Ben replied, shaking the man’s hand. “Congratulations, it’s always good to see our generation keeping old family traditions alive.”

The sarcasm of his words must not have been as obvious as Ben had intended it to be, because Richard flashed him a wide, overly-whitened smile, shaking his hand back.

“Absolutely. I’ve heard all about _you_ , though,” the man said, pointing his glass of whiskey at Ben. “You’d just graduated when I got into law school, and you were already a legend.”

“I only work with the best,” Palpatine replied, flashing Ben one of his wrinkled smiles. “At their jobs _and_ at poker.”

Everyone laughed at the joke, and Ben smiled politely, raising a brow.

“Ben, honey,” Tarkin’s wife began to explain, holding onto her husband’s arm. “I was just telling them about that dinner party we had last time you were in town? When you almost made my family go bankrupt playing cards with my drunk husband?” 

“Oh, that,” Ben replied, taking a sip of whiskey. “My bad.”

Everyone laughed again, and Ben took the opportunity to look at Rey, who was pointedly looking at anyone but him as she sipped on her champagne.

“Moral of Claire’s story is,” Tarkin said, smiling at his wife. “Never underestimate Ben Solo’s luck.”

“Is he known for his luck, Senator?”

Rey’s words sounded innocently curious, but Ben could taste the venom lurking underneath the surface as if it were a coin sparkling at the bottom of a swimming pool. For some reason, it made him bite back a smile.

“Oh, honey, don’t get me started,” Claire said, laughing as she reached out for Rey’s hand. “Why don’t we go out for a ladies’ lunch next week? So we can all just gossip without all these men boring us to death?”

“That sounds lovely,” Rey said with a bright smile.

“That sounds dangerous,” pomade guy mumbled over the rim of his glass, making the other men laugh.

“And speaking of boredom,” Ben said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the man’s tired little joke, “I actually came over to ask Ms. Palpatine if she wants do dance.” He watched Rey’s grip tighten even further around her glass, and smiled when she looked up at him, her expression casually curious. “Take a break from all this business talk.”

“Of course she does!” Palpatine replied animatedly. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Ms. Palpatine?” Ben insisted, eyes fixed on her face, waiting for her to answer. He couldn’t help but marvel at how convincing the expression of surprise on her face was when her eyebrows shot up just a hairbreadth, promptly followed by a modest smile.

“Of course,” she said, handing a passing waiter her flute of champagne. Ben did the same with his glass. “Of course, why not?”

He smiled as he offered her his arm, and threw the rest of the group a courteous nod before saying, “I’ll bring her right back.” 

“You kids take your time,” Palpatine replied, flashing the couple a knowing smile before Ben finally started to lead Rey to the center of the room.

He didn’t look at her as they walked, only stopping when they reached a spot that was isolated enough for them not to be overheard, but still central enough that Palpatine could see them.

When he turned to face her, taking one of her hands in his and pulling her closer by the waist, the expression on her face was still neutral, but devoid of any of the innocence it had carried a few seconds before.

Her voice, on the other hand, wasn’t neutral at all, but menacingly soft when she murmured, “This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Mr. Solo.”

“What,” he asked, a rift forming between his brows as he started to sway softly from side to side. “Dancing?”

“I thought I’d made myself pretty clear.”

“Oh, you did,” Ben replied, voice low, hand barely touching the naked skin of her waist that the cutout on her dress left exposed. “Trust me. That’s why I wanted to talk to you in private.”

Her lips curled almost imperceptibly at the words, and she narrowed her eyes, gaze brimming with amused incredulity. 

“Wasn’t your obsession with talking to me ‘in private’ how our _little problem_ started?”

“No,” Ben replied, shaking his head, eyes fixed on hers. “Me being overprotective of your grandfather’s estate was how our little problem started. And I wanted to apologize for that.”

As good as she was, she didn’t seem to be able to stop her eyebrows from knitting together nor her eyes from narrowing even further when she heard his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry,” he stated simply, offering her a small shrug. “You were right. I overstepped. I let paranoia get the best of me, and I grasped at straws to justify it.” Working his lips, he watched her forehead slowly smooth over as he went on. “I made some very serious accusations I had no business making, and I’m very sorry for that.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, hand resting softly on his shoulder, as she bit the insides of her cheeks.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I am,” he insisted, nodding for good measure. “As I told you before, we’ve had a few people trying to con Mr. Palpatine in the past, and I think I just developed a very aggressive defense mechanism against that kind of thing. And I ended up pointing it your way when you didn’t deserve it.”

It felt like he could tell the exact moment she decided to play ball. Not the moment she _believed_ him, no, because she could obviously read him just as easily as he could read her, but the moment she decided to play along to see where he was going, because it was as if a switch had been flipped inside of her.

In a split second, that solid, self-assured determination was gone from her eyes and her jawline, replaced by the subtle, docile modesty she played so well.

Ben tried hard to fight the unexplainable sense of disappointment that clawed at his chest at the sight.

This was what he wanted, he told himself, eyes fixed on her face.

She’d be back in no time.

“I can understand that,” she said softly, offering him an understanding smile. “I mean, I was hurt. Obviously.” Swallowing thickly, she let the slight thickness of her voice hang in the air for a moment before proceeding. “But I can understand you being protective towards the company. Maybe I can even appreciate it.”

“That’d be very selfless of you,” Ben replied, returning her smile. “But you’re obviously a very selfless person.”

“I try to be fair to people. I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

“And I appreciate that,” he murmured, mouth still set in a small smile. “I’d love to have a chance to start things over, if you’d be willing to give me that.”

“I would. Yeah,” she agreed with another soft smile, her hand relaxing on his shoulder. He held on to her waist slightly more firmly in response. 

“Thank you, Ms. Palpatine. And this may sound weird, but thank you for being harsh with me. I think…” He averted his gaze for a second before looking back at her, jaw locked. “I think I really needed to hear some of the things you said.”

“Like what?”

“Like when you called me a bratty rich kid.”

“I think it was ‘a spoiled rich boy.’”

“Right,” he chuckled, self-conscious gaze darting away again. “That. I mean, it got me thinking about a lot of things. The way I grew up. My family.” He looked back at her, then, to find something glimmering in her hazel eyes. He didn’t manage to put his finger on it, though, because it was gone in an instant. “I’m sorry, can we move this somewhere more private? It’s a bit of a sore spot for me.”

“Of course,” she murmured kindly, giving his shoulder an understanding squeeze as they stopped swaying. “Of course.”

Ben just smiled in response, sliding his hand to the small of her back as he gestured towards a glass door leading to one of the balconies. Rey nodded, letting him guide her away from the crowd, gaze slightly lowered in perfectly convincing shyness.

They’d almost reached the door when a waiter approached them holding new glasses of whiskey and champagne on an immaculately polished silver platter.

“Sir, Miss?”

“Thank you,” Ben said with a nod, handing Rey her glass before taking his own.

He let go of her waist to open the door, and glanced to his right as he let her through to find Palpatine smiling at him in the distance, raising his glass discreetly. Ben returned the gesture, smiling back at the man before following Rey out of the ballroom.

The night outside was wildly starry, and a soft, warm breeze tugged at Ben’s hair as they walked to the edge of the empty balcony, only stopping when they reached the stone balustrade encircling it.

This particular terrace looked out on one of the back gardens, and Ben glanced down at the sparkly fountain murmuring several feet below as he braced one of his hands on the stone bannister and brought his glass to his lips. 

“You were saying?” Rey said softly after a moment of silence. When he looked at her, she was sipping on her champagne, too, sparkly eyes trained on his side profile.

“I was saying you were right about that.” He shrugged, putting his glass down on the balustrade before turning around to face her, and she did the same. “I do come from money. I believe you know who my mother is?”

“I don’t, no. Sorry.”

“Well, my full name’s Benjamin _Organa_ Solo, so…”

Her eyes widened in doctored surprise at the words, and her lips parted softly, letting out a low, “Oh.”

“Organa?” she asked. “As in… Leia Organa? The Senator?”

Ben nodded, pressing his lips together as he picked his glass back up.

“Yeah. I mean, former Senator, she’s been retired for a while,” he explained, swirling his whiskey. “For the last few years she’s dedicated herself to this organization, The Resistance. It’s basically an extension of her work in the Senate. A way to use her influence to take her activism further.”

“Right. I think I read something about that.”

“You must have. They’re all over the place.” Ben took a long sip of whiskey, taking his time swallowing it before he went on. “Anyway, I was thinking about what you said, and there’s a lot of truth to it. Maybe I found it hard to empathize with your story because I didn’t go through any of the things you’ve experienced in life.” He glanced down at the garden as he said that, watching the moonlight paint the wildly colorful flowerbeds blue. “But I think I can empathize with what you’ll go through from here on out. And that’s why I wanted us to start over. ‘Cause I think… ” Their gazes locked again when he stopped and wet his lips, the murmuring water down below filling up the silence. “I think I could help you with that.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice low and soft, as she tilted her head. 

“You must have heard what people say about your grandfather. That he’s…” Inhaling deeply, Ben looked up as if searching for the right word. “Difficult. That his moral compass is very… Malleable.”

“I have, yeah,” she replied, shrugging as she flashed him a sad, resigned smile.

“And the thing is…” Ben went on, leaning against the balustrade, his hand closing around cold, humid stone. “People have created this narrative around my mother and him. Good versus evil, light versus darkness, the strong-willed anti-war environmentalist versus the evil oil tycoon. The headlines practically write themselves.”

He shot her a bitter smile as he said the last words, and she smiled back at him, nodding knowingly.

“I remember that, yeah. The anti-war movement when she was a Senator.”

“Then you remember how they painted her, right?” When Rey only stared at him in response, he glanced down at the fountain again. “How her followers idolized her, how untouchable they made her out to be.” He stood there in silence for a long moment, jaw clenched, before turning to face her. When he spoke again, the tightness in his throat was audible in his voice. “But the thing is, they’re sides of the same coin, Leia Organa and Sheev Palpatine.”

Her expression still looked contained and curious as she looked up at him, but _something_ had already changed in her façade, as if its bright colors had faded, allowing a glimpse of the raw concrete underneath.

“How so?” she asked, tone perfectly even.

“I used to idolize her, too.” It came out in one fluid breath, with no hesitation, as if it had been sitting there for a long time, just waiting to be said. “As a kid. I saw her as a heroine.” Wetting his lips, Ben turned his back to the garden, sipping on his whiskey as he slumped back against the rail with his arms crossed. “I thought she could do no wrong. But as I grew up, I started to see she’s just as selfish as he is. Just as self-centered, just as entitled, just as vain.”

Ben didn’t look at her as he said that, but he could see her draw in a deep breath out of the corner of his eye.

“Is she?”

“Yes, she is,” he answered simply. “Trust me, I’d know.”

He swallowed before turning to face her, setting his glass down again.

“What you said yesterday,” he went on, voice low and slightly strained. “About finally not being alone anymore… That’s a lovely feeling. But I want you to be careful, ‘cause people like him…”

The sound of chatter and music coming from the party was still muffled by the glass windows, but it sounded louder in the silence that stretched between them as Ben searched for the right words. “Don’t get me wrong, I believe he loves you,” he said carefully, brow slightly creased. “Very much. But I know from experience that sometimes that’s not enough. Because I grew up with people like him – people that may have loved me in their own way, who gave me the most comfortable material life I could have possibly had – but I also grew up completely alone.”

The tightness that gripped his chest as he looked at her made his breathing go slightly ragged, but he didn’t make an effort to hide it, knowing full well that this was exactly what needed to happen. 

“I guess what I’m telling you,” he rasped, “is what I wish someone had told me when I was a kid. Manage your expectations. I know it’s hard, but trust me, it’ll save you a lot of heartbreak if you manage to do it from the start.” His voice was slightly shaky when he went on, and his eyes were starting to burn, but he made no effort to hide any of it either. “I think about that a lot, the pain I could have avoided if someone had told me she didn’t care about me. That all she cared about was her cause, that abandoning me for weeks on end wasn’t some noble sacrifice she was making to make the world a better place. That it just didn’t make a difference to her, being a mother.”

His voice was about to break the second he finished the sentence. He could feel it, just like he could feel the weight of the tears in his eyes, so he looked away from her again, eyes fixed on the couples dancing beneath glistening crystal inside the house.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Her voice sounded strained, too, but he could tell it wasn’t from tears. Licking his lips, he furrowed his brow as he nodded.

“Trust me, it is,” he insisted, stinging eyes drifting back to her impassive face and then back to the garden. “She doesn’t care about anyone but herself. And you’re actually better off than me on that front, ‘cause at least Palpatine’s honest about who he is.” Breathing out a short, bitter scoff, he shrugged again, refusing to meet her eyes. “My mother’s an actress. A character. She’ll make you believe she cares, when in fact all that matters to her is her image. Her power. Her influence.” The sound of his voice was more even now, strengthened by anger, to he went on, never tearing his eyes away from the glistening water below. “She’s a narcissistic, egotistical –”

“Shut up.”

Ben pretended not to hear her low, shaky murmur, carrying on as if she hadn’t spoken.

“- Hypocritical sham who’s managed to convince the entire world she’s actually –”

“I said _shut the fuck up_.”

She practically shouted the last words, voice trembling with anger, so Ben looked at the party by pure instinct first, making sure no one had heard her. Only then did he look at her, once again admiring the forest fire of her real self in all its glory – her burning eyes and clenched jaw, her knuckles white as she closed her fingers around the edge of the balustrade, the corners of her lips downturned by the weight of sheer spite. 

The triumph in his chest was tainted by something dark and damp, but he didn’t try to make sense of it as he smirked at her, cocking one of his brows.

“Jackpot,” he murmured as he took a step closer, picking his glass up from the balustrade. “You guys are so predictable. No matter how good you are, that’s always your Achilles heel. Blind loyalty to her.”

“You’re such a slimy piece of shit,” Rey spat, shaking her head as her eyes roamed around his face.

“I should have known from the start,” Ben murmured, rolling his jaw. “Blind loyalty's the only thing that would justify doing something as insane as this.”

“You know what’s insane?” she asked, her voice going dangerously low as she inched closer to him. “To keep talking when I told you to shut the fuck up.”

“What, you gonna kick me in the nuts?” With another smirk, he glanced over at the party, taking stock of the familiar faces that could see them from this angle. “In front of… Senator Wilhuff Tarkin? I don’t think even Mother Theresa herself could have gotten away with that.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Rey agreed, eyes narrowed, bitter sarcasm dripping from her every word. “That would be very inconvenient. You know what would be even more inconvenient, though?” Her eyes darted to the party, too, before drifting back to Ben’s face, sparkling with unmistakable contentment. “If I went back in there to resume my little chat with Tarkin and his wife. Acted like a love-struck young girl eager to know _everything_ about you. Asked them all about the _lovely_ experience of working with the great Ben Solo.” She bit her tongue as her eyebrows shot up in theatrical naïveté. “Wasn’t that your last big consulting job? Helping him sort out estate taxes?”

Ben couldn’t help but smile at the implied threat, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a mocking smile. “Almost as unbelievable as taking advantage of the full access you got to his finances to identify inactive accounts. Using the blueprint of his net worth that _he_ gave you to identify the money that’s not on his radar. The treasure troves he literally doesn’t even know are there.” She took a step closer as she spoke, hazel eyes slightly narrowed, voice low and calm. “How much did you make from this one? Three million? Four million? On top of your fees, of course, I’m sure people must pay a pretty penny for the honor of being swindled by you.”

Once again, Ben couldn’t do much but stare at her in awe, unable to feel anything but fascination as he watched her corner him like a lioness ready to secure dinner.

“It’s a smart scheme,” she added, wetting her lips with the unwavering calm of someone discussing their area of expertise. “I’ll give you that. Earning Palpatine's trust, then using it to scam his friends. They’ll never even know that money’s gone, will they? For people like them it’s like…” Pressing her lips together, she glanced over at the garden below, forehead creased, as if looking for the right metaphor. “Like losing a quarter on the bus when you didn’t even know it was there to begin with. But it adds up, doesn’t it? Let’s see…”

Frowning with exaggerated concentration, she turned her head towards the party, eyes narrowing as she scanned the guests. “Canady. Veers. Who’s that one over there,” she asked, pushing up on her toes as if in search of a better view. “Next to the handsy blonde who was drooling all over your tux? Oh, yeah, Krennic. Lovely. Didn’t the three of them consult you in the past year or so, too?” Her eyes were sparkling when their gazes met again, and she held her lower lip between her teeth, the shadow of a smile dancing around the corners of her mouth. “And look at them now. Happy. _Unsuspecting_. It would be a shame if someone went over there and planted the seed of doubt.” Biting the insides of her cheeks, she looked up at the stars as if envisioning an unpleasant scenario. When she went on, her voice sounded like a caricature of the meek, subdued tone she used in public. “Innocently. Unintentionally, of course.” With a sarcastic smile, she placed her hand over her heart, emulating her impeccable head tilt. “Out of the pureness of their untainted heart. Wonder who that person could be.”

“How did you even find that out?” Ben murmured, biting his lower lip in a vain effort to dissipate the awestruck smile that had settled on his face.

“This is not my first rodeo, Cowboy,” Rey murmured, coming dangerously close to him as she narrowed her eyes. “Thought you’d already figured that out. And I never go into a job without having done my research _very_ thoroughly, so let me make myself very clear.”

Her voice was even lower when she went on, her face half illuminated by the blueish silver tint of the moon in the sky. “I work alone. I don’t want help. I don’t _need_ help. But since you’re so desperate to cut a deal with me, let me throw you a bone here. Let’s make a deal.” Wetting her lips, she raised her chin and cocked her head so that their faces were mere inches away. “You stay the fuck out of my business and I stay the fuck out of yours. How does that sound?”

“You know, _this_ ,” Ben murmured, gaze darting down to her lips before bouncing back to her gleaming eyes. “The real you? Infinitely better than Goody-Two-Shoes back there.”

“Hm, yeah.” She shrugged, offering him a theatrical apologetic frown. “Unfortunately I don’t curate my personality to please arrogant self-centered assholes, so I won’t be able to give two shits about your preferences. Sorry.”

Ben smiled at the words, tongue tracing the back of his teeth as he held her gaze.

“What’s your mission, Rey?”

“Nice bowtie.” 

“Why did she put you up to this?”

She raised her eyes from his tie at the question, a slight smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Solo.” Still smiling, she took the glass from his hand and downed the rest of the whiskey before licking her lips. “I hear there’s plenty of good whiskey for you to ruin with ice.”

With one last smirk, she handed him the glass and looked at the ballroom, seeming to make calculations for a second before striding towards the door. Their arms brushed as she walked past him, and Ben turned to watch her make her way back into the gala, leaving her champagne behind.

She cocked an eyebrow as she closed the massive door behind her, as if alluding to a shared secret, and Ben couldn’t help but chortle in disbelief at the sight.

Shaking his head as he turned towards the garden, he ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling deeply. His jaw was locked, but the hint of a smile was still on his lips when he slipped his hands into his pockets, watching the reflection of the moon quiver on the surface of the fountain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the true story of how Benjamin Organa Solo came in his pants in the middle of a gala. 
> 
> Lol, jk. 
> 
> Unless…
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one, guys! I know I'm ridiculously behind in answering your comments, but I promise I read every single one of them several times every single day and they make me the happiest girl on earth <3
> 
> See you next week! Love your faces!


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